#does Pen being supernatural

[occamstfs]

Ni Hao!NYC

Morally conflicted journalist puts off questions of ethics until it's just too late. Finally assigned to put his name next inflammatory content Sam finds himself more than appreciating Chinese culture.

Various white to Asian Muscle growth and racial change ahead!

Like many, I saw the final pictures on twitter and had to do something with them haha! Ended up with a piece just a tad different than usual! Hope you all enjoy! -Occam

Samuel Johnston knew he worked for a rag but as long as the checks cashed he could afford to mute his conscience. They made money not from sales so much as some rightwing think tank who wants their views affirmed in any way they can get it. So he lays low and pens little puff pieces, avoiding anything too controversial and introduces himself as an accountant to anyone he cares enough to lie to.

He’s quite adept at staying out of sight and mind when it comes to the doling out of any especially charged or problematic issues. Making sure to bury his own work any chance he gets, even using a pen name in case someone accidentally stumbles on his writing. It’s gone well enough so far he thinks! Sam tells himself that really working for NY:Red isn’t that bad, surely it’s even good that he’s got the job rather than anyone who believes the shit they write. Right?

No job is without its problems, he tells himself. So far he’s done a commendable job keeping his nose down with an almost supernatural ability to duck away from bigwigs or management. That is until now as he’s summoned by name to his boss’ side. His proficiency at staying off the radar of management has kept him from a one on one with the man in charge for some time, but now he is sitting on the top floor outside of Mr. Howard’s office, surely waiting to be assigned some horrible project.

“Come in!” Sam hears the surly man shout before promptly stepping into the gaudy office. He’s immediately taken aback as somehow the editor looks almost younger than he does in the many pictures Sam has seen. Sam hides his shock at the man’s jet black hair as well as he hides the general fear and disdain that begins to send adrenaline pumping towards his mind. Mr. Howard doesn't notice at least, getting straight to business, “I can tell from yer writing that ya like the city Sam, can I call ya Sam?”

Samuel opens his mouth to reply but the chief just continues on, “Anyway I love all yer little toilet paper stories but how do ya wanna write with the big leagues?” This time Samuel stays strong and gets a word in before being steamrolled again, “Actually I-” “I’m puttin’ you on the most important case we have Sam. Surely ya’ve noticed all this, what's da word, influx? Invasion? Bah. All the Asian shit that’s startin’ ta creep in on our city’s culture!” Samuel makes an awkward face as despite knowingly working for the racist, it’s different to hear the words out loud.

He holds his tongue out of shock or fear and his boss continues on his diatribe, “The last couple a schmucks I had on the beat just up’n left me high and dry can ya believe it! Old friends I thought!” He grumbles as he scratches his chin, moving away his hand it seems his beard thinned? He shakes his head in irritation and Sam would swear he saw his jowls tighten and wrinkles smooth over. “Anyway kid. Go out and do some prelim research. Have something on my desk by Friday or yer out just like those galoots!” Samuel stands for a second unsure if he’s allowed to leave before his boss looks up to glare with eyes Sam would’ve sworn were blue when he walked in.

Sam rushes out the door and to the elevator, riding it back to his floor, debating between writing a preemptive resignation or keeping mum and keeping on payroll for one last week. Profiteering from a culture war he may be but he’s not about to regurgitate genuinely racist talking points. He taps his foot impatiently as he thinks about just how cushy this gig is though. “Fuck!” He decides to call the only other confirmed decent human being he knows here, his friend Nick who works in the fashion dept.

The two go to grab coffee at a chain next door, Sam tries not to notice how they’ve started selling Vietnamese iced coffee. “Fuck man I can’t do it! Literally just one conversation alone with Howard was a wake up call.” Nick smiles like he has no problems with working for the dirtiest rag in the city, “Chill out Sam. Huward had my manager on the same beat and he, uh, Hidaka said that is said to just look busy for a bit and we won’t need to worry about all this racist shit anymore.” Sam squints his eyes at his friend, he’s not usually so easy breezy about work. He also racks his brain trying to figure out who Hidaka could possibly be. That can’t be his boss. No way Howard would let someone not white lead a department.

Seeing Sam lost in thought Nick reaches out and grabs his hand in a way Sam couldn’t imagine him doing before this second. In fact as the second drags on he stares down in the hand in shock, feeling the warm hand squeeze his forearm. He looks up to his friend’s face searching for any clue to the cause of this odd behavior. Sam smiles awkwardly and half-jokes “Hah hah, uh- Who are you and what’d you do with Nick… Hah.” Nick bursts out laughing, patting him on the arm jovially and leaving a hand larger than Sam remembers resting on his own. “Hidaka-san just showed me how to worry less about this job un?”

Sam inspects him closely for anything amiss, it looks like he’s picked up a bit of a tan? His hair is messier than usual and definitely a little darker, his skin is alluringly smooth and Sam can feel the heat his body is generating despite sitting across from him. Looking at his clothes Sam finds another surprise, his shirt almost looks strained! As if Nick has been hitting the gym for sometime, maybe it’s just been a while since he’s seen his friend in person? 

Assuaged in the slightest, Sam ignores the glowering red flags and follows this lede, “Woah Nick have you been working out?” Nick blushes and Sam at the very least sees his friend is as shy as ever. He goes to scratch the back of his head straining his shirt almost to its ripping point as he responds, “Ah a little haha! どうぞ(please) don’t you worry about me. Since you have no desire to write the article, why don’t you go ahead and check out the little Asian market down the street for fun? It was quite a good time when Hidaka-san brought me earlier this week!”

Sam awkwardly smiles as he wonders why on Earth Sam is suddenly referring to his boss like this, it’s almost like he’s performatively speaking Japanese. Taking a second to pause Sam looks at the haircut as hands unseen style it into something fashionable he puts two and two together. Thinking to himself, ah! Nick must just be a weeb! Tension disappears from his body with a sigh of relief as he wonders how he didn’t notice before now. He gets up to follow his friend’s advice, what better way to stick it to the man than support the people he aims to malign right?

He bucks up and grabs a Vietnamese iced coffee for the road, tossing a “Sayonara,” at Nick with a wink to which he perks up and slightly bows. Man, how did he not notice before Sam thinks yet again. Blissfully unaware, leaving just as kanji symbols appear on Nick’s keyboard and his friend responds to an email in a language he didn’t know this morning. Blue eyes growing coal dark as his tanned, increasingly muscular arms tap away at the keyboard.

Sam spends the bulk of his day at the little Asian street fair and has an absolute blast. Any residual stains on his mind from his unpleasant morning absolutely fade away as he goes from booth to booth sampling cuisine and chatting with diasporic cultures the world over. Time flies as he goes into journalist mode and basically interviews first gen Chinese immigrants about their time in the city. He finds himself beyond immersed in the conversation, continuing to learn from the couple as the tables around them begin to pack up for the day. 

He offers to help the older couple pack up and they happily take the aid, striking him bashful as they talk of what a sweet young man he is. “Wa! 哇强 (strong) Too!” The wife chuckles as she jokingly feels his less than impressive arms. He was having a better time at this little fair than he ever could’ve imagined, enough so that he thinks about going to stick it to Huaward then and there. Huaward? Whatever. His mind slightly off put by whatever that was, in an uncharacteristic act of transparency, Sam lets it slip that he works for NY:Red. The expressions on the kind couple’s faces immediately sour and Sam is quite shocked that they even know what the paper is.

There is a glint in the husband’s eyes as he starts to motion Sam away from any further aid, “谢谢 (Thank you) for your help, Sam. There have been a few, hm, bad men wandering around from that paper and I uh-” He looks around his table and grabs some miijiu they hadn’t put away yet. His wife nods, her face somewhere between rueful and hopeful as she watches her husband offer Sam the glass. “Again, 谢谢, er thank you for your help young man, enjoy this for the road 好的? (Yeah?)” The two turn to each other and begin talking to each other in mandarin alone and Sam takes the hint.

Kicking himself that he fumbled the capstone on such a pleasant afternoon, though finding solace in the rice wine he’s walking away with. He is blissfully unaware as the couple watch him drink and head down the street debating if everyone from that paper really is an asshole. Grimacing as they think about the vitriol spewed at them by NY:Red readers they decide they had no other recourse. Pleasant as he seemed Sam was consciously working on the side of hate and that could not be simply overlooked.

Sam quite enjoyed the rice wine the couple left him with, it immediately smooths over any lasting regret or concern about his interaction with the couple. They don’t know anything about him! He’s nothing like his other coworkers. It feels as if he’s had far more to drink than the small container they left him with should allow, but every time he looks down there always seems to be more mijiu to entice him. It would be impolite not to finish their gift he thinks; his confident stride quickly shifting to a stumble as he wanders home. 

His phone goes off as he gets an email from his boss, Mr. Huang?  Can’t be right. He squints at the email, deciding he must really have overdone it on the mijiu and stuffing his phone back in his pocket. Beyond the obvious difficulties in ambulation being drunk, Sam is unable to notice as his proportions slowly begin to shift. His ever-so lanky body begins to feel dull and heavy as the warmth of the wine fills his chest to capacity and then some as he leans against his apartment door, wiping his feet on an unfamiliar doormat. 

He kicks his shoes off by the door on some new instinct and immediately goes to collapse on the couch. His small sofa creaking as he puts more than his usual dead weight on it. His legs that usually hang off the end lengthen even further as his thighs grow meatier. Pecs press into the cushions as he snores. He is swiftly ushered into an unfamiliar dreamscape, the jubilee of the fair and the bewildering amount of wine he drank produce a vivid carnival of culture in his subconscious.

He sees the old couple at their stand and begins to speak with them in their mother tongue, seeing the delight as a load is taken off their shoulders. His dreamself seamlessly conversing with a fluency unearned. Sam stirs in the waking world as his mind existentially changes to match his morphing body. His blond hair grows thin and longer as its tint stains darker. Twitching in REM the green eyes that he prides himself on speckle with brown before they are entirely overtaken, becoming a rich cacao like the thick eyebrows framing them.

The discomfort of a new language forcing itself into this memory begins to wane as he prides himself on how fluent he is in both Chinese and English. His hand goes to scratch his pecs and he smirks in his sleep as they pulse larger, knowing pride is not the only thing surging within him. At the edges of his mind he feels the memory of learning a language, words written on a blackboard in chalk, English and Chinese both. For the life of him he cannot recall which of the two he’s learning second. An alarm set on his phone blares and he jolts awake to get ready for work.

Throwing on a shirt, Sam freezes as he sees his reflection. Hundreds of little questions seize his mind, those aren’t his eyes are they? Did he dye his hair last night? Are those abs? God his arms look good don’t they!? As they race through his mind and grow rampant they fixate on how attractive he suddenly feels. Rubbing his pecs and feeling them bounce he cries out to himself, “该死！Uhhh, Damn I look good!” He poses in the mirror and takes in every new angle of his powerful body. Taking note as his body hair seems thinner, and decidedly darker wherever it remains. He looks close at his pit seeing his once dense bush of curly hair thin out and straighten, before the memory of even having dense body hair is washed from his mind.

His phone goes off again and his work is immediately brought to the forefront of his mind. “Fuck I didn’t read Huang’s message!” He finds email after email from his boss, only the first few mention the wretched assignment they last talked about. Sam’s eyes widen as he continues to skim through the emails as the topic lines quickly show some drastic re-prioritization from his boss. Only then does he realize that he’s been reading his boss’ name as Huang. His boss is white. Rather his boss’ whole identity is based around being white! Huang isn’t, right? Incredibly he clicks the last email, subject line Vacation, and is immediately greeted with a mouth watering picture of a powerful man. Everything comes to a stop as he can’t help but gawk at this man’s body.

Ni Hao Sanuel- take the day off shi de? Still only half dressed Sam balks at just how bizarre this is, rereading the name Sanuel he is thrown for a loop as his mind reconfigures this. Tearing his eyes from the man’s torso he finally looks at the cocky face and sees a thread he recognizes,  “天啊! (Holy Shit!) That’s Mr. Huang!” He shuts his mouth before he drools like a dog at his boss’ arms. God, this is unlike him though right? He tries to dig through his memories of the editor in chief as the caustic racist he was yesterday, but with each uncovered the image of Huang changes as this dreamboat playboy overrides more of what was.

Sanuel readies to just stay in for this day of assigned vacation before he gets another notification, this time from his friend, Nobu? An image of Nick flashes through his mind, a handprint burns on his arm, and the taste of Vietnamese coffee dances on his lips. “Meet me on the boardwalk うん？” Sanuel rolls his eyes at his friend tacking on Japanese like that, willing his mind not to think about how his friend’s contact ID now says Nobu. Must be one of those, uh, his own thoughts trail off as he successfully abandons concern to head to meet his friend.

Nearing the meeting spot he looks for his usually cleancut friend, the only body present however is a massive Japanese man awkwardly flexing at himself in a reflective surface. Sanuel shyly speaks up, “Ni Ha-, uh Hey? Have you seen a guy named Nick around here?” The apparent bodybuilder beams and goes to engulf Sanuel in a hug shouting, “Oi! Shan! took ya long enough!” His eye twitches hearing the name, as this man effortlessly lifts him off his feet in a hug far too intimate for colleagues, and certainly from whoever this stranger is!

Shan pushes against the massive man, his body heat broiling him on this already warm day. He strains his eyes looking at the man grabbing him and suddenly it hits him, “Nobu?” The man promptly lets him go and pats him on the back with a laugh he would’ve never expected to come from his sheepish friend in the fashion department. “Wanna go have some ice cream or something Shan?” He feels the need to push back against his friend calling him Shan but as he hears it a second time he can’t recognize the names as anything but his own.

Shan pauses as he sees Nobu stop to chat with some Japanese tourists and something about the picture doesn’t sit right. God it’s that talk with Huang getting him all worked up again that,uh, racist? He clutches his head as contradictions between his past and present collide in his head and he slams his eyes shut as he cannot determine what is true about his current reality. Shan falls to the ground with a deep thud, slightly hyperventilating, his body grows larger as he takes deep breaths from the stress.

Hearing him collapse Nobu runs over to help him up, this time with more effort as his friend’s comatose body continues to put on muscle and grow heavier. Still, having the impressive figure he does, Nobu rather easily gets him on a bench and sits next to him, “クソ野郎？(Fuck dude?) You alright?” Shan slowly nods as his friend throws an arm around him. Looking down at his own arms as they pulse with muscle, he feels his eyes strain as the structure of his face begins to change.

Shan's jawline sharpens and his skin smooths. Stubble that has been a cornerstone of hiding his facial blemishes vacates as his hair stains black and flops longer. He feels clarity grace his mind as he stares at large hands on the ends of pale, hairless, muscular arms and he wonders if he is even himself.

He voices these concerns to Nobu who just laughs them off. “Hah! Of course dude, same Shan I’ve always known!” “那- that’s not my name Nobu.” His friend grins shyly in concern for his friend's mind. “It can't be my name. I’m-” grimacing before he continues as it takes everything in his power to speak against the realities in front of him. Memories of a world quite far away, moving to New York long ago, the youngest in a family of Chinese immigrants, “I’m white aren’t I Nobu?” 

Nobu can’t help but laugh again at the beyond bizarre statement. He jokes about Shan hitting his head when he fell. “You’re the most 2nd Gen Chinese わるがき(brat) I know bro! Imma go get us some ice cream while you chill out.” Shan stares at his friend as he abandons him, feeling his eyes tighten as they shift into the monolid eyes that his memories swear he’s always had.

Shan retreats into his mind racing against his changing memories to find a pillar of truth to grasp on. He sees himself at the gym with Nobu, his black mop of hair flicking sweat into the air as he poses with his bro. He sees just yesterday at the Asian fair, helping an elderly couple pack up their table, twitching as he would’ve sworn that went differently. He remembers sitting at the office getting no work done as he plays on his phone, 是的！that’s it! His job. There’s something there, if only he can remember what the problem was there.

He sees Nobu begin walking back with sweet treats, Nobu works at the paper too. Oh 呃/Duh! He smirks as he goes for his wallet to grab a business card. His eyes see the obnoxious red logo he knows before they read text that will send him irrevocably forward, Shun Jiang - Ni Hao!NYC. His body fills with warmth like a machine overworking as his mind races with information about his new reality. Sweat drips from his hair as he can no longer even struggle to recall his claimed existence as a bystander at the vile paper they produced. His brown eyes steep to a dark black as they glaze over.

“Shan-baka! Here’s a popsicle!” Nobu shouts as he returns to his overheated friend who immediately bursts from his stupor. “混蛋!(Asshole!) It’s Shun- thought we were close!” Nobe smirks as he starts to eat his own ice cream. Unable to recall anything too in depth he feels a pause as he wonders what his Japanese friend is doing working for a Chinese newspaper, before he answers it himself. Clearly his subconscious is more at place in whatever new reality he faces. Their paper is for all NYC’s Asian immigrants. Nobu works writing, or more often modeling, for Konnichiwa!NYC! Huang really was a genius for the idea.

Shun smiles, thinking fondly of his boss as he enjoys the short break from the summer heat that Nobu brought him. Back at the headquarters of their paper everything shifts from the rag it was and into a paper connecting the disparate Asian immigrants of the city, printed in any language they can find translators for, Ni Hao, Konnichiwa, Annyeonghaseyo, Namaste!NYC. Each day striving for a better, more inclusive New York City. Shun beams with his new face, no longer burdened with the just concern of his peddling vitriol, instead possessed with a desire to spread his culture far and wide.

———————————————————————————

As I was writing I remembered a similar series by the now gone Dumb-and-Jocked!

If interested do check out Horizon Zero: One, Two, and Three for quite a different take on a journalism themed Racial Change!

[ofteacupsandclocks]

Will is worse than Hannibal.

So recently I made a little rant-y post about how it would be better to have Hannibal want to kill rather than have Will want to kill you. And I kind of touched on how fucked up Will is and was gonna leave it at that but I decided that gorgeous twisted little man deserves a post all of his own. So here goes:

Will is much more sadistic in the traditional meaning of the word than Hannibal. Hannibal kills for the sake of the end result, he kills to have the person dead, he kills to get rid of a witness, he kills to eat. Will kills for the sake of the process.

In the three seasons of Hannibal even while Will was severely restraining and repressing himself you could still see glimpses of the monster that lives under his skin.

He is most unhinged in his fantasies about Hannibal. Will never imagined Hannibal being dead, Will always imagined the process of killing Hannibal. There’s a huge difference. He imagined a stag pulling at a rope at Hannibal’s neck strangling him until blood burst from his body in a wave. He imagined cutting Hannibal’s neck to release some blood and lowering him into a pig pen so the animals would eat him alive. Now tell me does that sound like something a normal person fantasises about? And I’m not talking about just wanting somebody dead, that would be understandable given the context, even normal. But that’s not Will fantasises about. Will fantasises about killing. That is not normal.

But thoughts are one thing. Let’s actually look at what he does, his actions: the first example I would present is Randall Tier. In the scene where Tier attacks Will, Will is holding a shotgun. No, not just holding it, pointing it directly at Randall. All that was left to do was pull the trigger and grant Randall a quick end and grant himself safety. What does Will do? He tosses the gun to the floor in favor of pouncing on Randall and beating him almost to death with his bare fists, and then snapping his neck. Oh and doing all that while imaging he was doing so to Hannibal Lector. And later Will himself admitted he enjoyed killing Randall. Again this is not a normal thing to do, not even close to normal or sane or understandable.

And the final nail in the coffin for me has to be Chilton. Will knew what he was doing and knowingly set Chilton up to be attacked by an unpredictable and sick(in every sense of the word) murderer. Will did not need, did not have to set Chilton up. And sure Chilton was not the nicest person ever. In fact he was a huge prick throughout the show, and got on my nerves whenever he was on screen. Chilton fully deserved a nice heavy punch in the nose, public humiliation and banishment from the medical community. He however did not deserve to be kidnapped, mutilated and burned alive by a serial killer. And what happened to Chilton was very much Will’s fault, but Will did not show an ounce of regret or guilt about what he did.

“Extreme acts of cruelty require a high degree of empathy.” Bedelia says. And Will is extremely empathetic, he is bordering on supernatural levels of empathy. He chose to do all of those actions. So while Hannibal doesn’t really care or acknowledge the pain he is causing just how a butcher doesn’t acknowledge the pain of a pig, Will does. Hannibal doesn’t acknowledge his victims humanity but Will is acutely aware of it. Will is acutely aware of what he is doing and to whom he is causing pain. And he chooses to do it anyway.

And just one final thing: the Will we saw in the show was a Will that was repressing and restricting himself. He was keeping his person suit wrapped around him like a straitjacket. The violence we saw him commit were mere echoes of the violence he is capable of. After season three, after the fall, after Will sheds his person suit and embraces everything he had kept hidden deep inside, the violence he is able and willing to unleash upon the world would be multiplied tenfold. It is terrifying to imagine this Will. This Will would be worse than Hannibal.

Hannibal enjoys the end result and does not really care about how he gets it.

But Will?

Will delights in the very act of killing.

[hedwig221b]

stiles and derek body swap fics?

sure thing

Fuzzy Logic by Sparseparsley

Derek and Stiles switch bodies because of wizard reasons and Stiles just wants to know what that awesome scent is.

I'm Lost In You by matildajones

He knows he should move but a part of him still feels paralyzed. He has clear feelings of not being able to move his body, of not being able to even blink. “Oh my god,” Stiles says, and he clambers to his feet, feeling dizzy. He easily finds a mirror in the room and then the most gorgeous eyes stare back at him. They’re a sea-green instead of the normal brown that he’s used to. He’s looking at his soulmate. -- Stiles wakes up in his soulmate's body, on his twenty-second birthday, with blurry memories of the past year. Derek doesn't wake up at all.

Your Body's My Body by derekstilinski

Derek and Stiles get body swapped… Interesting things happen.

Under My Skin by Renmackree

In his defense, Stiles wasn't even trying to find his way into the supernatural tonight. He had gone to a normal party at Danny's after their summer Lacrosse practice , met a normal girl who seemed interested in him, left with her to go to her normal apartment in the hopes of having normal sex for the first time. But, then again, when has anything normal happened to Stiles Stilinski?

Might Not Make It Back by GotTheSilver

Bodyswap. Because of the fun.

Yours, Mine, Our Body by christinchen

Stiles wishes Derek could see things from his perspective. His magic decides to grant him that wish. Literally.

Trust Fall

Stiles is fairly certain that a case could be made for every bad thing in his life coming back to Peter Hale. This time it's pissing off a powerful witch, who retaliated by swapping Stiles and Derek a la Freaky Friday, because sure. That makes sense. Um, there are GPAs on the line, not to mention the whole thing where his dad wants to shoot Derek on sight. Except who he sees as Derek is actually Stiles, and Stiles did not sign up for filicide. Great. Wait…does this mean he's the Alpha until they figure this out? Holy. Shit. Derek had stood in front of the bathroom mirror for a few minutes trying to control the panic as he saw himself as Stiles. As the loud mouthed human friend of the pack. He was going to kill Peter. He was going to kill the witch, then he was going to kill Peter. Maybe even resurrect him again just to kill him all over. They were going to have to play this cool. They would have to stay calm and focused. Which is of course why the universe threw him into this situation with someone who physically couldn't be calm and focused. Of course.

it is so quite new a thing by sheafrotherdon

In the last, lazy moment before he opens his eyes, Derek realizes something is wrong.

i feel you in every heartbeat by warlock (sapphicblight)

Suddenly his entire body felt tingly and sensitive and he could swear gravity had failed on him just then; he couldn’t feel the chair he was sitting on, or where he’d planted his feet on the floor, or the clothes he was wearing, or the pen he was holding, and then his vision started blurring and morphing into a picture of some place that was not his classroom. “Oh, shi—” “—it,” he finished with a different voice. Or, the AU in which, on their 22nd birthday, a person will switch bodies with their soulmate and is left to figure out whom they're temporarily inhabiting, and how to get back to each other. But because Stiles is Stiles, he forgets that it's his birthday, and the bodyswap takes him by surprise.

if i was you and you were me, we'd still be us by thoughtsandthings

"Derek,” Stiles said slowly. “Why do you look like the evil twin version of me?” “Go look in the mirror.” - After swapping bodies, Stiles and Derek walk a mile in each other’s shoes and learn a lot about each other (and themselves) in the process.

[masterlist link]

[psiioniicarts]

Designs for Mark and “Cesar” from my Alternates in Arms (AiA) AU (see my previous post for the premise). These are mostly for my own reference, but I liked coming up with an older design for Mark. Which…I definitely will be using cause he doesn’t died probably. Probably…yeah.

Extra notes under read more:

Notes on Mark:

Mark never really left the house much, he developed general anxiety (as well as social) due to being left home alone at too young an age. Part of his taste for writing (both recreationally and for his affirmation book) developed as a coping mechanism under these circumstances.

He didn’t used to wear his rosary often, but ever since Cesar gifted him a new one he’s worn it religiously.

As he got older (which he definitely does…probably) he started to leave the house more for work, but still avoided people. He works as a freelance writer and carries a notebook and several pens with him both as a way to write down ideas and just generally write reminders. His memory is not that good due to [REDACTED].

He writes for multiple genres, but creative horror is the most popular one. Lately, he’s developed an interest for supernatural journalism….

He has his own car and took it with him after he moved out. After [REDACTED] occurred, he moved in with Cesar and hasn’t spoken with his parents or sister since. It’s possible they believe him to be dead…

Notes on Cesar… … or “Cesar”:

Cesar is the more charismatic of the two, but often seems to struggle with some English words and phrases. Most attribute it to English being his second language (Spanish being the first).

He works at a small hole-in-the-wall semi-gothic themed bar called the Snakeskin Tavern as a bartender. After the old owner and manager seemingly abandoned the place (going no contact and not being seen again), Cesar took over as its most veteran worker. He’s the only one of the workers with a key, but thankfully stopped being late after Mark started dropping him off at work.

On his…”true nature”, unlike Mark he doesn’t visibly age. It’s not an issue considering he “became Cesar” when Cesar was 18, but a few comment on his seemingly lucky genes. Surely, he just has a youthful face…

Besides the fully “base form” of alternates (shadowy or distorted figures), the most “basic form” he takes is the original image he copied: Cesar in his prom suit from a photo. In this form, the clothes are apart of his body.

His relationship with Mark is very good; despite the summer where their friendship seemed to be over, it has since recovered. There was something that occurred between them sometime in 1992, but Mark doesn’t remember and Cesar… … …

Occasionally, Cesar can be seen with two others, one he works with and one from church. His relationship to them is unknown, but he seems to like the coworker well, and the church man….not so much.

Feel free to ask me questions about this AU btw, I’ll try to answer without spoiling too much

[fanatical4creation]

INVERTED!Poppy!!!

Finally made her up, I was just putting it off and putting off designing her but then I took my pen, my new laptop and drew it, now look at her!!!

Alright let's start shall we?

Design:

"OMG FANATICAL WHY DOES POPPY LOOKS LIKE A FRISK-" Shhhhh, you need to calm down, i'll explain everything;

Alright, bare with me: The original Poppy mentions in an animation, that she's talking to her therapist, that people usually thinks she's a Chara, but she's none! And I think, I theorize, I suppose that the reason why she looks like a Chara is bc an Frisk was drawing her (you know her lore?), so supposing that the whole concept of Invertedverse is that the original universe Underswap, that Frisk who drew her is an Chara, so if the Frisk drew a Chara in the original, here the Frisk that is now a Chara would draw a Frisk....... so, that's the logic here.;

Even though Poppy is still not a Frisk nor a Chara, but I don't think I translated that into her design, maybe I'll redo it sometime.

Her clothings are intriguing. It's her original teenage/adult clothings but with some green and a purple cloak or cape, whatever that is. This cloak represents her importance inside OmegaTimeline, that reminds me;

View from back Ω:

Made it with wind because it's cool, plus, her silhouette is cool too

Story:

Core was the "ruler" of Omega Timeline, everyone would look for them when there was a problem and needed help, everybody trusted them, but they put Poppy on their place... Core is a very mischievous character, no one really knows why they put Poppy in charge.

Omega citizens theorize that the reason is because Core was lazy, or that they didn't like the attention, or maybe they wanted to focus fully on recruting people, even thought after Poppy got in charge Core was rarely seen interacting with people and also the numbers of new survivors to get to the OT decreased.

Poppy tries her best to help remain peace within Omega Timeline, even if it requires all of her energies, thought she could really use some help, she thinks that the reason why her parent is more absent while she was in charge was because they knew she could everything alone, and that she should do it.

She doesn't have many friends, and the old ones got far away because she's too busy working signing papers, solving problems, financing projects, etc, etc.

Character:

She suffers. That's the truth, she just needs a vacation and a hug from her girlfriend.

She doesn't like parties... just thought it was important to mention.

Poppy doesn't like her parent, almost hates them even, they seem so irresponsible, imature and a coward, after just letting their daughter in charge of a (practically) country in surprise, it's expected for her to feel that way

Poppy has to be the clueless character in the whole Invertedverse, the reason is that she's so busy at work, or too busy being tired, and she usually gets information on what's going on from Core, but Core have been very silent lately, wonder why...

She has the hobby of playing board games, dancing and origamis!

She likes to cook more for others than herself

Sometimes she would visit the Madame T's orphanage, mainly to see Cadence and her friends, but also to donate and all of that things famous ppl do in orphanages idk.

Even thought she does a lot of hard work sometimes she'd take credit over someone elses work unintentionally, i mean, she's kind of the president.

She can't lie, like literally, maybe it's just her morals, or maybe it's a supernatural force idk.

She also keeps taping her fingers in hard surfaces all the time, I think it's anxiety.

Oh yeah, her full name is still Poppy Marusina, but she can also be called Iris Marusina, or maybe I'll change that to her original name, idk

Poppy (c) fmsdraws

[socialistexan]

One of the most common complaints I hear from Doctor Who "fans" recently besides - or usually in conjunction with - "It's Too Woke" (nevermind that the show always had been progressively-minded) is that, "well this new Doctor Who don't feel like Doctor Who"

And, like, it's such an absurd statement to make. How can a show that has been so drastically different over the course of 60 years

Like, the 3rd Doctor era felt completely than the 1st and 2nd Doctor, it was a distinctly different show even beyond being in color. The 4th Doctor arguably 3-4 distinct different eras within his own run. 7's last two seasons were so different in look and feel and pacing, so much so that it fits in better with the 2005 revival than it does something made even the year before with the same actors. 11 was a huge stylistic break from 9 and 10, and even 12 felt different.

Hell, this is a show where there is a tradition of having stories that are essentially "Doctor Who Does Frankenstein" (Brain of Morbius) or "Doctor Who Through the Looking Glass" (Warriors' Gate)

Should it feel like a Hinchcliffe gothic story like Pyramids of Mars? Or a Hulke-penned space opera like Frontier in Space? How about a goofy, campy scifi romp like The Chase? Maybe a heavy political allegory like The Green Death or Day of the Daleks? Or a supernatural surrealist story like Ghost Light or the Daemons?

So which one is the "correct" Doctor Who Feel. There isn't one. There's a spirit to the show, sure, but the look, feel, and style of the show changes with the times.

Really the only times where it "doesn't feel like Doctor Who" is when the show isn't being progressive or staying true to it's anti-fascist, enviomentalist, and frankly anti-capitalist roots.

If you don't like the show anymore, you don't like the show, that's fine, but the show is what it always has been.

[ziekkfreak2-0]

Serial Designation J -> Julie

This bitch literally the entire reason I made this AU HAHAHAHA. Rambling below.

🖋️ Shortened name for "Juliet", as in Romeo and Juliet. Do you sense the doomed yuri.

JULIE:

🖋️ Swears in school terminology.

🖋️ Precocious, popular, and has a supernatural understanding of doors.

🖋️ Obsessed with being a perfect student, hence why she follows the dress code exactly.

🖋️ Used to cover up her freckles. However, after Tessa remarked how she was self conscious about her own freckles, Julie decided to stop.

🖋️ Still bullies Nexus, but does care enough to not let him die. After all, they can't regenerate or come back as clones like the DDs.

🖋️ Hoards pens and school supplies like a dragon building their nest. If you lose a pen, you will never find it again.

🖋️ Serial-In-Class-Doodler, but is both surprisingly good at it and still has remarkable grades.

🖋️ Defacto choice for leader, and abuses this power.

🖋️ Still dies in episode 1. Skill issue, tbh.

🔺 Series opens with a Group Project on a word problem about buying watermelons. Julie did all the research, Virtue did the slides, and Nexus read the presentation.

RELATED LORE BITS:

🔺 There was barely any communication about the project, though, and Nexus based his presentation solely off of Virtue's slides... All of which were about the DDs.

🔺 Nexus took the opportunity to talk about how they can befriend the murderous robots beyond the steel doors. Neither Julie or Virtue were happy with this.

🔺 Their remediation assignment is to justify how the DDs can be befriended. Which the gang have to venture outside for.

AU INTRO POST:

[mycartoonmonster]

Bill Cipher and Mabel Pines Similarities

Both are Agents of Chaos that can cause chaos without much issue and quite easily(Bill leaning into Chaotic Evil while Mabel leans into Chaotic Good/Neutral)

Both LOVE to party and more often than not are the souls of the party.

Both are creative and have a weird, wild imagination.

Both have a sense of style (Bill's tophat and bowtie and Mabel with her sweaters and with her headpieces and hair accesories) with them having what's possible the most extensive wardrobe among the show's cast-Mabel changes sweaters in all episodes and Bill uses different hats across the book as well as changing his clothes to match what the pages show. Both of them starting to be stylish from a very young age.

Both seem really fond of tophats or hats and formal attires in general- Mabel dresses Waddles with a top-hat in Carpet Diem, does have a pen with a top-hat wearing dog, likes the idea of double hats in her guide to fashion and when Dipper comes with the game DD&MD she suggests he found dogs with hats and she's delighted at the idea of making dresses with her glue gun for the Northwest's party where Bill shows great pride on his tophat and affirms he looks great in formal wear.

Both have guides to everything where they talk about similar topics (love and fashion) even if these contain wrong info due to their POVs like with facts about the human body and the origins of stickers and color.

Both aren't disturbed by weird stuff but actually seem rather attracted to it, with both being fond of or fans of supernatural creatures as seen with Bill´s page about cryptids and Mabel being delighted at the possibility that her boyfriend in Tourist Trapped turns out to be a vampire.

Both like to use make-up and do makeovers, both in physical appearence and interior design (Mabel constantly playing it with her friends and she remodels the Hand witch's cave and Bill does mention makeovers are needed so your partner doesn't find about your blood soaked past, comments on his new 3D look to Ford and designed the Fearamid-getting upset over the door being destroyed)

Both are artists but specialize better in other areas of design (Both do have bit of a sketchy/scribbly style when it comes to certain stuff like Bill drawing himself or the Catticatures but Bill has shown to have a knack for graphic design as seen in his book or with the Fearamid and Mabel can knit and sculpt-one that was so real that Stan almost thinks it's Ford-and also has an eye for room decoration as seen with her part of the room she shares with Dipper or the Hand Witch's Cave)

Both are loners who can attract people to them thanks to their charm and personality (Bill with his love of chaos became friends with the henchmaniacs whereas Mabel instantly clicked with Candy and Greta by being weirdos not as popular as Pacifica and her friends)

Both hold themselves in high regard-Mabel's confident in her own habilities, charm and traits vs Bill's ego-but deep down are insecure about how others perceive them.

They sometimes choose violence

Both have a laugh that can result annoying to some

Both dont seemingly have a nice indoor voice; with Bill thinking in capital letters and Mabel is known for being rather loud.

Both rarely take off their characteristic pieces of clothing like the sweater or his hat and bowtie and if they do it's only for brief periods of time (Mabel takes her sweater off after she's humilated by Pacifica and doesn't put it back on for a few hours in Pioneer Day and she use that much on Deep Dive due to the massive heat or her being in a swimsuit and Bill takes his hat to wipe it clean after his first fight with the gang or just to tip Dipper in his dream in Sock Opera and to show Ford the last atoms of Euclydia)

Both see themselves as underappreciated in their time (Bill in his home dimension and Mabel claims to be underappreciated in ep 4)

Both have been chastized/mocked for being themselves (Bill by talking about the stars or the 3rd dimension and Mabel by her goofiness)

Both dislike certain types of music (Country in Mabel's case synthethised music in Bill's case)

Both taught/showed stuff to women they shouldn't have (Mabel showed the pioneers how to high five, told her they would vote much later on, showed her glowing shoes and Bill by showing them witchcraft when disguised as a goat)

Both have eaten stuff they shouldn't or isn't normal to consume (Illegal punch, alcoholic dream beverages, spiders and his exoskeleton in Bill's case whereas Mabel constantly eats raw sugar, drank her conccoction Mabel juice, munched on a leaf and took too much smile dip as well as getting one trip to the hospital for eating scratch and sniff stickers)

Both got intoxicated once-Mabel with the smile dip to the point she could see magic dogs and Bill with alcohol at a bar.

Both turn to drinks when upset over things not going their way or something of theirs is ruined.

Both think messing with Dipper is fun and both saw his search history.

Both like to tease Dipper about his crush on Wendy-Mabel throughout season 1 whereas Bill does point it out to his clones in the deleted Dreamscaperers dream sequence with Dipper and Bill and Bill makes nods to that in his book like when talking about Wendy's dreams or when he brings up his search history which include stuff like her social media and pictures of lumberjack redheads.

Both have written stuff in Journal 3 and or used it for personal use-Bill writing codes and secret messages and later using the pages and personal notes of Ford to plaster them in his own book and Mabel used it for her play to impress Gabe and wrote in it after the events of Sock Opera and The last Mabelcorn.

Both like karaoke and had a karaoke night with a Stan Twin.

Both can be selfish when putting their wants and needs over other's (at least Mabel recognizes her mistakes, apologizes for them and learn from them)

Both have messed with animals (Mabel was pretending to be a ventriloque with a seagull, played matchmaker with an owl, got banned from a petting zoo by recreating an unicorn with a horse, a traffic cone and duct tape and punched an unicorn in the face while Bill messes with a deer's teeth and in the deleted storyboards for Weirdmageddon he forced a passing deer to kiss Ford's golden statue)

Both tried to trick gnomes to do their job-Mabel's attempt in Gideon Rises at least worked for a while whereas Bill couldn't as they were, according to Bill, too dumb to manipulate.

Both had people younger than them interested in them (Gideon,a ten year old in Mabel's case and Bill is waaaaaaaay older than Ford in human terms)

Both dont like homework.

Both refer to Ford as Fordsy.

Both are among the only people Ford feels comfortable showing his hands.

Both like rolling on grass.

Both seem to have similar tastes in books-Bill wrote erotica with The Love Triangle and Grenda brought her mom's age inappropiate love novels to a sleepover so they could all read them and we have a page where it shows what seem to be not only movies but books that parody sagas like twilight

Both have created sock pupets of someone (Bill of Ford and Mabel out of herself and Dipper among other people in Gravity Falls)

Both recognize McGucket's mind is badly messed up-This being among the few things that shook Bill.

Both view Toby Determinated as a very strange person to the point Bill himself says he tracks with other Cryptids even if he cant prove he's actually one.

Both have a pet (Mabel has Waddles while Bill thinks of Teeth as one)

Both had possesion of people they saw as their pets they didnt wanna get rid of for a while, becoming angry and agressive at the possibility of them being taken away or leaving them behind cause both seek affection they found in them (The Several Times band and Ford Pines) but at least Mabel learned to let them go.

Both like to showcase their teeth in pictures

Both like running things in their own ways and were the respective bosses of certain places for some time-The Mystery Shack and Nightmare realm.

Both seem to like cinema, especially animation (Bill makes references to movies such as Chicago with the "We both reached for the gun" as well as dorothy and her pet from the wizard of oz in the deleted page where we´re shown his autonomy, referenced Chernabog from Disney´s Fantasia or other horror movies in his book and refers to rubberhose animation as a riot or the "dark arts" in a fond tone and Mabel has seen an anime movie parody of Spirited Away a great number of times-82-,grew up on High School musical like movies, constantly watches the movies that featured Ryler and Crash)

Both have what could be considered "odd" fears-Mabel fears Stop Motion and Bill cant stand 3D glasses among blinds and TV static.

Both like to add smiley faces to things.

The have figurines of members of the Pines Family and/or the town.

Both use white out, crayons to scratch things they dont like out of books like how Bill covers the section of the Great Gatsby, the section of his exes, the Euclydian massacre part, the Oracle as part of the Henchmaniacs and the Guide to cannibalism in his book when Ford confronts him about his origins and Mabel in how she covers the dialog of the comic's characters in Lost Legends or some things in her writing journal 3.

Both dont like the idea of time moving foward-with Bill saying it in Journal 3 and considering the idea of stopping time moving as something fun

Both became gods of destruction twice, first time accidental and second time with full intention (Mabel by giving away the Rift and later destroying MabelLand while Bill by accidently setting his home dimension ablaze and later on with Weirdmageddon)

Both in a way created their own paradise; MabelLand and Weirdmageddon, with both of them saying the party will never end

Both have places with their name on it-MabelLand and Billvile

Both, in the realms they reign over, can make something happen by doing hand gestures like clasping hands or snapping their fingers; Mabel can manifest whatever she wants by clapping her hands in MabelLand (also we have the Mabel's guide to stickers where she removes Dipper with a snap, yelling edit, and adds stuff she likes instead) and Bill can twist reality as he sees fit in the mindscape and Weirdmageddon and can manipulate neurons as he likes to give people pleasure or pain and rearrange them so the victim can forget memories or have them constantly hearing an ever increasing tune or have their optic nerves rearranged so their sight is upside down.

Although their paradise is meant to be lawless there are unspoken rules people must follow to stay there like obeying Bill and not bringing up reality.

Their residence in said paradise is at the top of towers built to their liking.

Both of them have artworks that depict them with crowns in the places they rule.

Both regret what they did even if it was 100% accidental-Weirdmageddon and the Euclydian Massacre

They were indirectly responsible for the creations of holes and cracks on the Earth-Bill with the Bottomless pit and Mabel with a crater dubbed Mabel's fault by Dipper in Lost Legends.

Both seem rather good at golf.

Both got injured with paint in their eyes (Mabel accidently doing it to herself and Bill thanks to Mabel)

Both have a couple of exes, with at least one of them being human (despite Bill saying he doesn't have any, he's implied to have had relationships with different people like Bloody Mary or the Void and we have the situationship he had with Ford)

When it comes to flirting they propose the idea of marriage

Both have wrong views or are misguided when it comes to love (Bill has the twisted idea that the love cage is the way to go if you want to be loved, thinking fear and love are the same and that loving means possesion while Mabel has been spoon fed and grew up in teen romance movies with romanticed versions of love and relationships all her life, her love tests are kinda unvalid or serve as a true guide for romance and she even states if you and your partner dont match you must force it to be ideal for eachother which can be taken the wrong way and she´s untrained in the subject regardless if her attempts at matchmaking have worked/are at least somewhat stable and she's still a child learning about life)

Both dressed in similar ways when it comes to playing cupid

Both had an archnemesis/rivalry with someone who's supposed to be the opposite of them but that also share some similarities with-Pacifica and Ford.

Both were in jail for a few hours-County jail for falsifying money and for wrecking a restaurant and harming the bystanders before the Henchmaniacs got him out.

Both have a criminal record (Mabel-falsifying money and Bill-manslaugther, physical assault, fraud and/or extorsion, theft, stalking, destruction of property and disturbance of the peace)

Both cant deal with Mabel's brain for too long; Mabel grew tired of other alternative versions of herself and Bill almost blows his cover when angry after everything he had to do in her brain and learning little to nothing he could exploit for his own plans.

Both dont like dealing with/talking of alternative versions of them that are their opposites-Anti-Mabel and Anti-Bill Cipher

They leave an "I was here" sign with their names

Both are seen as goth by Alex Hirsch (A non canon grown up version of Mabel drawn by Hirsch shows her being goth while Bill was described as a goth girl by Alex)

Golden statues

When the possiblity of death is near them; they say similar phrases:

Both are implied to be queer or at least bisexual (Mabel is implied to be bi thanks to several heart stickers linking her to to the bisexual flag as well as being included in the Chibi Tiny Tales Pride Video and some of Bill´s implied exes are female like Bloody Mary or the Black Hole, Bill´s has an article which says "Lock up your wives and husbands, folks!" showing he´s also interested in men, during his time as Silas Birchtree he attempted to get as many wives as possible in his cult and whatever Ford and Bill had was certainly not heteronormative in any way)

Both think highly of Quentin Trembley

Both were denied positions of power by the goverment-Mabel isnt recognized as a congress woman as they dont value Trembley's opinion and the founding fathers refused to make deals with Bill

Both use variations of their names such as William Lucipher and Mableangelo and Lady Mabelton or use different allieses Mr. Upsidedowningtonand and Vinegar Pete

Both of them do covers/their own version of real life songs such as We'll Meet Again and Call Me Maybe

Both keep collections or souvenirs of the adventures the Pines family go through

[moirindeclermont]

5+ things I love about Penelope Bridgerton

(if you want to ask for a specific 5+ things I love go to my ask here - you can ask about Bridgerton, IWTV, Buffy or Supernatural)

1) Call me basic, but I love a smart character. Pen is witty and quick with her words. She has a sharp tongue and she puns. She made an entire business on her own, at 17 years old, and she maintain it for 3 seasons. She played the equivalent of a game of chess with the Queen herself and more than once, she won.

2) She loves deeply and fearlessly. She has a fierce instinct of protection for those she loves, and while that instinct can cause trouble, when it comes to Eloise or Colin she does what she does out of protection. That doesn't mean she doesn't make mistakes. She does. And often, when she's mad, she says or write stuff she doesn't mean. But I've never found her cruel for the pleasure of it.

3) She loves being intimate with Colin. For a woman that was deeply inexperienced, when she gets there she is enthusiastic about it, asks for guidance, etc. She is a wonder to look at, so open and uninhibited. I feel much like Colin, watching her is half of my personal pleasure in those moments.

4) She has the courage to change. When she realizes she is stuck, she looks at the situation and if she has to change and adapt, she does. It's not an easy thing to do at all. She truly embrace change at every new experience.

5) She allows people space. She does these with both Colin and Eloise. She knows they are hurt and, while she miss them and wants to make peace, she recognize they need to do so at their own pace.

6) She learns to use her power. It's not just gossip, as she tells Eloise. It's more than that and she recognize she can use the power the Ton itself gave her for making positive change. She has a purpose and dreams of her own and a husband and that's such a powerful message.

7) She learns to do everything on her own AND then she learns she doesn't have to. Do you have any idea how hard that is? Learning to trust other people will have your back and help you? I'm in awe of this woman.

8) This was a lot more difficult to write than Colin's. Because I saw so may things of Pen in me, that reading this and realizing I'm also some of this things is quite a challenge to grasp. But that's also another reason why I love her. She makes me feel seen.

[aziraphales-library]

Love you guys! You're doing amazing work! :)

Do you have any good fics where Crowley is high ranking in hell/lord of hell or Satan?

Also I'd recommend The Mourning Star by MaterialMortal to anyone looking for something like that, it's my favourite that I've found myself.

Thanks! We have #duke of hell crowley and #crowley is satan tags, so do check those out! Here are some more to add...

Heaven meets Hell by MikaFromHell (E)

The Supreme Archangel Aziraphale visits the Prince of Hell. ... "This was fun," Crowley said, finding the unfinished whisky glass on the bedside table. He sipped from it once and then got up from the bed. "We should repeat it some time," he added, squeezing himself into his tight leather trousers. "We shall," Aziraphale replied, following every movement of the demon with his gaze from the bed. Crowley walked to the couch to retrieve his t-shirt from the floor. "Feel free to enter my kingdom again whenever you want, Supreme Archangel," Crowley said, looking back at the blonde over his shoulder. "We can discuss diplomatic issues anytime you want," he winked.

Stockholm's Other Syndrome by WaitingToBeBroken (T)

Grand Duke of Hell Crowley kidnaps Supreme Archangel Aziraphale so he can finally do all those vile, nasty things he has always wanted to do to him. Like feed him sushi or force him to take a walk in the park. Hold his hand so he doesn't escape. Truly disgusting things.

Serpent's Requiem by midnightdragons (G)

Aziraphale stopped, his hand stilling, the pen hovering over the crumpled, demonic-energy-infused paper. He froze. His breath that he didn't need stuttered in his lungs, choking up his throat as his mouth went dry and his face drained of color, leaving him pale. He placed down the pen, and pressed his hand over his mouth, and felt very, very ill, because he recognized the serpentine signature at the bottom of the page, aggressively scrawled and etched in with supernatural occult power that sparked and hissed.

Supreme Archangel Aziraphale recognizes a certain demon's signature when approving a contract for the new Duke of Hell.

Prelude to an Epic by Ginger_Cat (T)

Crowley pretty much loathes everything about being Grand Duke of Hell. He’d known he would. It wasn’t supposed to be about being Duke, him going back there. Doing Duke things. Not at all. It was supposed to be about Aziraphale.

What's in a name by Primroza (T)

Before the Fall the angel was called Lucifer. Years later, after the Fall, once humans reimagine and tell his story, they will call him Satan. But in this particular moment, as he is standing on the wall above Eden, he is simply called Crawly. *** Crowley is the King of Hell. But one small problem, Aziraphale does not know that. And Crowley is sure he can never tell him the truth without the angel rejecting him. Crowley can just hide the truth. It works for about six thousand years and then Crowley's son is about to end the World.

And the one you mentioned...

The Mourning Star by MaterialMortal (NR)

Back before the Creation of Man, before the Garden, there was the Fall. The Fall was lead by Lucifer, the First of the Fallen, God’s Favorite, King of Hell, and is destined to spawn the Destroyer of Mankind. Thinking back to these events, Crowley sighs. He was so productive back then. What happened? (Of course he knew what happened. A little angel happened. Was it in God’s Ineffable Plan that a measly Principality would one day have the Devil himself wrapped around his pinky finger?) (Perhaps so.)

- Mod D

[rose-tea-and-strawberries]

Malleus x Reader Drabble

I write Reader as female

Masterlist

You really should be paying attention to what Malleus was saying, considering how considerate and enthusiastic he was. It was sweet of him, really, to offer you the seat next to him during break time when you offhandedly mentioned eating lunch alone in the library instead of at your usual table at the cafeteria because of Ace and Deuce’s shared detention - in fact, he even offered to help you with your Defense Magic essay. And what were you doing as a response to his kindness? Letting his words fade away as you observed how the sunlight did an exquisite job at highlighting his orphic beauty.

Despite being a creature of the night, a puissant being who can play with and control the nocturnal elements of his as easily and elegantly as he does his beloved violin, he looked just as ethereal under celestial rays as he does bathed in the colours of his domain.

You never really understood his cloak-and-dagger reputation, considering the fact that the same fairy whose name never failed to drain the blood from your schoolmates’ faces was also the one who’d pout childishly when Lilia would deny him his second box of ice cream or light up giddily whenever his Gao-Gao Dragon-kun would so much as move a pixel. Of course, you yourself felt the chill of intimidation slither up your spine when you saw the way he presented himself in public, from the way authority and might would adhere his form in every step he took, to the way resolution was laced in every word he spoke, to how he could rebuild an entire demolished building from crushed rubble to brand new in a blink of an eye. You were more than aware that the companion to your nighttime rendezvous was someone who should be respected and feared. 

But the strangest thing was - you never felt scared. Sure you had your moments of awe and outright reverence whenever his pure, unadulterated power was displayed, but you could never really feel anything other than that tempting allure that would tug you towards him, the tendrils of curiosity that made you want to know more about him. When you first met, you felt a kinship, a fondness to another lonely soul who felt out of place amongst their peers.

“Are you feeling well, child of man?” a deep velvety voice pulled you out of your reverie and you sheepishly noted how the page of your notebook was still mainly blank, your traitorous fingers having chosen to absentmindedly swirl your pen between them instead of jotting down what he was saying.

“Oh well I-,” you felt your face heat up at your obvious distracted mind, “I’m really sorry Tsunotarou, truly I - I guess I was just uh-”

“‘Away with the fairies’ is the correct term, I believe,” he gave you a fond smile.

“Well, yeah, I suppose,” you agree shamefully, completely embarrassed at how technically true his statement was and wishing that the ground would swallow you whole, “I am really sorry. You’re here doing me a huge favour and I’m not even paying attention. I guess - oh.”

Your still fiddling fingers had lost grip of your pen, letting it clatter against the marble floor and roll under the table.

“Sorry,” you were really getting more and more frazzled as the seconds went by, “let me just- ”

“Please, child of man, allow me,” and before you could even comprehend what was happening, the sixth foot supernatural dorm leader of Diasomnia had abandoned his seat and knelt down to retrieve your pen before holding it in front of you, a coy smile on his face, not making a single move to get up.

This nyctophilic fairy prince, whose entire existence is shrouded in fear and mystery, was kneeling before you in broad daylight, handing you your pen as if it was worth more than quadruple its weight in gold. Underneath the static in your head, you could hear the shocked exclamations of Grim and Sebek and Lilia’s ever suspicious snickering and you could feel the burning gazes of the entire cafeteria scalding against your frame. Dumbly, you simply took your pen back, all cerebral functions doing absolutely nothing - you couldn’t even remember how to breathe. 

Unaware, or unbothered, of the looks being thrown your way, Malleus sat back in his chair, just as regal and refined as he does everything else before turning to you with a secretive smile, “as we were, my dear. However, this time let’s try to keep your thoughts on me alone.”

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Baby: Part Two

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.6k

Warnings: canon angst and violence, extra angst, feeling broken and utterly helpless to the point of depression, wanting to die, being shot

Summary: You're trying to prove to Sam and Dean that after two months of having your soul restored, you're all better. You'll gladly play the part if it means they don't worry about you. However, that facade is slowly being stripped away from you the longer you go without facing up to those feelings. You're not okay and you need to stop pretending like you are.

Season Eleven Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. I love seeing any and all comments <3

x

Dean pulls out of the parking lot and resumes the drive to Oregon, and you flip open the blank notebook and put your pen to the paper. Maybe in order to start to heal, you need to get out what's been bothering you. You have to do this for your kids. They'll become Sapphire Witches in the future, maybe only one of them might, but they're going to need something to fall back on when they find themselves in the same situation as you.

You pray to God that they never have to lose their souls but in the instance that it happens, they're gonna want to know what to do or how to get through it. There are plenty of books on the Sapphire Witch, even the journal that the previous Sapphire Witches had all written in. You'll write your own entries one day but right now, you have to focus on making a Scarlet Witch book.

You have to document what happened, what kind of magic you used, and how you felt so that future generations can look back on it and realize they're not alone.

Where do you even begin? From the beginning, I guess.

I am leaving this journal behind as a sort of... guide... for whoever needs to read it. I'm not even sure where to start. I don't remember much about my time as the Scarlet Witch, but I know the Mark of Cain helped me unlock that side of it. Does that mean I'll get that magic back if I ever become soulless again? I'm not sure. It's possible which means it's possible for you to gain these powers, hence this journal. The power I felt... It was like someone flipped a switch in my brain and dialed everything I felt to the maximum. It was evil. It was chaos. I could do things I can't do now. Well, maybe I can. I'm honestly afraid of using my magic in fear I'll tap into that side of me again. I craved power which is what you'll crave if you ever come across this side of you. I did anything I could in order to feed that monster inside of me, including hurting the people I love.

You take a break and look out the window before you start sobbing. Knowing how you feel is different than explaining it on paper for someone to read. It's going to be a long time before you're okay again but you have to get this down on paper before you refuse to do it. You tape the end of your pen rhythmically on the notebook as you think of what to say next.

"So, 'digging into the lore'? Is that what the kids are calling it these days?"

"Man, I needed that," Sam laughs.

"Look at that, you're finally not a virgin anymore," Dean grins. "You know what? I think it was time. I respect the fact that you know, wanted to stay true and pure and waited."

"You know what? You're an idiot," Sam scoffs.

"You even put a blanket down. Classy and thoughtful as always."

"I tried to give her my number. You know what she said?"

"We got tonight. Who needs tomorrow?"

"Is everything a Bob Seger song to you?"

"Yeah, well..." Dean looks at his brother who tries to hide a yawn. "You're tired. I'm still wired so I'm gonna pull over and get some gas. You hop in the back and get some Z's because you earned 'em. Proud of you, little brother." Dean pulls into the first gas station he sees and looks at you who is still staring out the window. "Hop up here, sweetheart."

You and Sam trade places, and you put your notebook away knowing you can't find the words to say. You don't want to rush this so you'll find some time to write later. You lean your head on the window and close your eyes. Maybe you'll get some sleep if you allow yourself to relax.

You gasp awake when you hear the sound of a train blaring its horn. You're still up front with Dean who has a book open on his lap. Sam jerks and looks around, having been shocked awake from the train as well. Dean is parked on the side of the road since there isn't a motel around for miles, and he doesn't want to drive anymore.

"Welcome to the Winchester Motel. We don't have cable, but we do have room service." Dean takes a beer from the cooler that's sitting on the floorboard by you and tosses it to Sam. "You were singing in your sleep. You know, that song Mom loved that Dad used to always play for us. I think I've actually still got the tape."

"Hey, Dean, when you and Y/N saw the Darkness, you weren't sure if it was the real thing or a vision, right?"

"It was real to me," you whisper.

"I think I've been having visions, too, lately. It's just images. I mean, more of a... feeling, really. I just had one right now, and Dad was in it, but it wasn't Dad like... like the Dad that I grew up with. It was Dad when he was our age. I guess it wasn't even really Dad. It was someone pretending to be Dad and--"

"Okay, what makes you say that?" Dean cuts his brother off from rambling.

"For starters, he told me everything I wanted to hear from him."

"Yeah, that doesn't sound like Dad."

"No. Anyways, whoever it was, they had a message to deliver. They said the Darkness is coming, and only we can stop it."

"Did they have him give you any helpful tips on how to do that?"

"He said, 'God helps those who help themselves.' I mean, maybe these visions are coming from God."

"Are you serious?" you ask.

"The first one happened after I prayed."

"You prayed? When was this?"

"Back with Jenna and Amara. After I got the phone call that Y/N was gone." You look down, remembering how you wanted to end your life. I still do. "I was worried."

"What did you pray about?"

"I guess I was just looking for answers, you know?"

"Well, I'm sure whatever is kicking around in your head right now is a side effect of being in close proximity to Amara."

"I don't think it's that simple."

"Come on, man. That quote? 'God helps those who help themselves'? God didn't say that. That's not even in the Bible. That's an old proverb that dates way back to Aesop." You and Sam look at Dean like he grew two heads. "What? I read. More importantly, when was the last time God answered any one of our prayers? It's not a vision, Sam. It's just some fever dream. That's all. As far as Dad goes, I dream about Dad all the time."

"You do?"

"Of course, I do. It's usually the same one, too." Dean looks down as he speaks, unable to look at anyone in the eyes when he says this. "We're all in the car. I'm sitting in the driver's seat and Dad is sitting shotgun. There aren't any shotguns. There are no monsters. There's no hunting. There's none of that. It's just... He's teaching me how to drive, and I'm not little like I was when he actually taught me how to drive. I'm sixteen, and he's helping me get my learner's permit. Of course, you two are in the backseat, just begging to take a turn. We pull up to the house--the family house--and I park in the driveway. He looks over and says, 'Perfect landing, son.' I have that dream every couple of months. Kind of comforting, actually."

"I always dream about mom. Usually the same kind of thing, though."

"Normal life?"

"Yeah. Normal life. Mean, I know we have a family and kids which is what we dream about, but there is no hunting."

"Yeah, I get it."

"Dean, this wasn't just a dream. I'm telling you."

"Why would somebody dress up like Dad to give you a message? I mean, it's Dad. You don't exactly have a history of listening to what he had to say."

"You two said the Darkness is sending messages to you. Y/N, is this any different than her messages to you? Maybe whatever is the opposite of the Darkness is sending messages to me."

"You think that's God?" you ask. "He's not exactly a team player at the moment."

"Okay, maybe it's not God, but--"

"Look, I know what you're trying to do here. You're trying to find some greater meaning to it all. Right? Some explanation as to what went down. I'm telling you, Sam. The Darkness? It's on us. No one's gonna help us, certainly not God, so we'll have to figure this thing out like we always do. Until then, we hunt."

"Goodnight, jerk," Sam scoffs.

"Night, bitch."

It's lights out now, so you and Dean shift so that he's lying on the seat with you on top of him. You rest your head above his heart while he rubs your back softly to calm your racing heart. You lift your head enough to catch his eyes.

"Dean, I..."

The words are lodged in your throat.

"I know, sweetheart. I do, too," he whispers.

You lean up and kiss him emotionally before putting your head back down on his chest. You don't have any nightmares and you think it's because you're in your husband's arms. 

When you wake up the next morning, Dean finishes the drive to Oregon and drops Sam off at the Sheriff's station while you and Dean head to the ME's office to look at the body. After getting what he needs, you two head back to the station and wait for Sam to be done. You're sitting in the front with your head leaning on the window just watching the wind blow the leaves on the ground. Dean reaches over and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, and you turn your head to look at him.

"How are you doing?"

"Okay, I guess."

"I want you to be honest with me about how you're feeling. I'm your husband."

"I wish I wasn't here. I know that's not fair of me to say but it's true. I should have let Death put me on another planet when I had the chance."

"I promised you that I would bring you back and I did. I took care of you while you were stuck inside my head. Now, I promise you that I will get you back to how you were before. No matter how long it takes." You scoot closer to him and put your forehead on his. He drops his voice to a whisper. "I promise you'll feel okay one day."

"I love you so much."

"I love you so much."

You two share a slow and intimate kiss. Everything else melts away so that it's only you and Dean in this moment. You pull away just as Sam walks out of the Sheriff's station and just like that, everything comes back into focus.

"Hey, the coroner showed me the sheriff's body. It was mauled all right. Get this, his heart was missing and his was body completely drained of blood."

"So, what? Are we looking for a werewolf/vampire hybrid?"

"Say it with me. A Were-pyre. Huh?" Dean asks with a grin.

"No."

"Come on."

"I'm not saying that," Sam snips.

"Whatever. I called Cas and told him to look into the lore. What do you got?"

"The Sheriff's replacement, Deputy Donnelly, is not the brightest bulb. I got a copy of his report, through. Maybe he missed something."

Speaking of, the Deputy walks to the window and kneels down right where Dean is sitting.

"Agents."

"Deputy."

"They must be your partners. Agent Walsh and Richards, right?" He looks from Sam to you to Dean. "Pleasure to meet you. I just want to thank you three for stopping by. We really appreciate your due diligence."

"Actually, do you know a motel where we can crash for the night?"

"You're staying?"

"Yeah, we want to be thorough."

"Well, there's a motel on Downey that'll give you a good price. If you're looking for a decent meal, you can't beat Aunt Mel's down by the train station. Parking is a bitch but it's the best damn steak in the whole state."

"You had me at 'steak'," Dean grins.

Dean drives to Aunt Mel's and grumbles in annoyance when he sees the valet parking service. He doesn't see a way out of it so he's forced to use their service. Sam looks over at his brother who refuses to hand his keys over to the very young woman.

"Dean, people valet park all the time. Come on, live a little."

Dean gets out of the car and hands the woman his keys but not without a warning.

"Yeah, listen, uh," he looks at her nametag, "Jessie, not a scratch, okay?"

You three head inside and Sam gets a table in the back, and you pull your phone out of your pocket to call Molly.

"Hey, how's the hunt going?" she answers.

"Oh, uh, okay. How are the kids?"

"The girls are angels. It's Noah I'm still having trouble with. Don't worry, I've dealt with this kind of thing before. I always leave a family with everyone loving me."

"Is he there with you?"

"Yeah."

"Put him on, please." There is a shuffle on the other end before Noah comes on the line. You step off to the side to speak privately while the brothers order food. "Noah, why are you giving Molly a hard time?"

"I want to be out there with you hunting."

"Noah... I know you want to come out with us but getting an education and being a kid is more important. You'll have your entire life to hunt but you can only be a kid once. Trust me, as someone whose childhood was stolen, being a kid is so much more important."

"Yeah, I guess," he sighs.

"Okay, look, why don't I make a deal with you? If you continue to go to school and not give Molly a hard time, I'll take you out and practice hunting with you. I'll teach you how to use all sorts of weapons and give you some training. Deal?"

"Yeah, we can do that."

"Okay, I gotta go but I love you."

"I love you, too."

x

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[eternaldarknesswitch]

Special Promot Valentine day ♥︎

Love Letters from (Suitor). – What words would they pour onto the page when no one is watching? Pairing ; Shu Sakamaki and Kou Mukami.

Header Credit: Diabolik Lover’s Series

Pairing: Multi Scenario x FemOc (Friend).

Tags : Yandere, DarkRomance, Obsession, Stalking, Possessiveness, Psychological Tension, VampiricThemes, Supernatural Romance, Gift Giving, LoveLetters, Slow Burn, Forbidden Longing, Intense Attraction, Dangerous Devotion, Blood Drinking, Manipulation, Emotional Conflict, Suspense, Power Imbalance, Soft Yet Unsettling

Warning : Dark & Intense Romantic Themes, Stalking & Obsession, Possessiveness & Yandere Themes, Blood Drinking (Kou’s Letter), Power Imbalance, Emotional Conflict.

A/N : Request from @love-scary-things, for special Valentine promotion: (2) Love Letters from (Suitor). – What words would they pour onto the page when no one is watching? For Diabolik Lover’s, Shu and Kou.

The following is my interpretation of what I believe Shu and Kou would say and act, and I kindly apologize if it does not align perfectly with the character or if you have a different understanding. Please bear in mind that it is intended purely for entertainment purposes and should not be taken to heart.

─────────ೋღ 🌺ღೋ─────────

Kou Mukami☆

"To My Little Sea Sprite" – A Love Letter, A Stalker’s Confession, A Dangerous Devotion

Kou wasn’t the kind of guy who second-guessed himself. Usually, when he wanted something, he took it. No hesitation, no overthinking. But Celine—Celine had thrown him into unfamiliar territory.

Stalking her was easy. Too easy. He knew the routes she took home, the cafés she liked, the way she carried herself with an effortless grace that made his fingers twitch with the urge to reach out and ruin it just a little. And then there was him—the tiny, golden-furred rabbit she had named Apollo. A ridiculous name for such a delicate creature, but somehow, it suited her. The rabbit was a mirror of his owner—soft and warm, yet just a little wary, as if it knew something dangerous lurked nearby.

Kou had grown used to watching her through a lens, a step behind the shadows, collecting pieces of her life like stolen treasures. But when it came to putting his thoughts into words, that was another story entirely. He had written draft after draft, torn through pages like a man possessed, his frustration mounting as nothing seemed right. Should he be poetic? Playful? Brutally honest? His fingers curled tight around the pen, his thoughts an unbearable mess. Every time he tried to explain why she had gotten under his skin, the words fell apart. How was he supposed to tell her that her voice had settled into his bones? That her scent haunted him? That the thought of her with someone else sent something dark and vicious curling inside him?

In the end, he settled on something raw. Something real.

The letter still burned in his pocket as he waited outside the concert venue, leaning against the wall with a lazy grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. His undead heart seem to pounded against his ribs, a foreign, infuriating rhythm. He wasn’t nervous—Kou Mukami didn’t get nervous. And yet, as he saw her stepping out, exhaustion clinging to her shoulders, he felt something tighten in his chest.

He had never been good at giving without taking. But tonight, just this once, he would let her have something.

A carefully selected bouquet of soft pink roses—delicate, lovely, just like her—and a box of chocolates, chosen with more thought than he’d ever admit. And the letter, neatly folded, tucked between the petals. The moment her gaze met his, he stepped forward, grin widening, his usual playful bravado slipping into place.

“Surprise, little sea sprite,” he murmured, holding the bouquet out to her, his fingers brushing hers as she reached for it. “Figured you deserved a little something after putting on a show for all those adoring fans. But don’t get the wrong idea—this isn’t me being nice or anything.” His voice lowered, the teasing lilt hiding something far more dangerous beneath. “Just… don’t keep me waiting too long, yeah?”

And with that, he turned, walking away before she could respond—before she could see just how much it really meant.

... ☆

Celine stood frozen in place, staring after him long after he disappeared into the night. The scent of roses filled her lungs, mingling with the lingering warmth of his touch on her fingers. What just happened?

Slowly, she looked down at the bouquet, her breath catching when she noticed the folded paper nestled between the petals. A love letter? From Kou Mukami? It didn’t seem possible, and yet… her fingers trembled as she pulled it free, unfolding the page with careful hands.

Her eyes scanned the words—words that should have unsettled her, but instead made her heartbeat quicken.

To My Little Sea Sprite,

I shouldn’t be writing this.

I shouldn’t even be thinking about you. But here I am, watching the ink stain the page, every word I carve out pulling me deeper under your spell. And the worst part? You don’t even know. You have no idea what you’ve done to me.

You were supposed to be just another face in the crowd, another girl starry-eyed and desperate for a piece of me. But you weren’t. You looked at me—not like an idol, not like something untouchable—but as a person. No screaming, no shaking hands, no suffocating obsession. Just… warmth. A quiet kind of admiration, the kind that seeped into my skin and made me feel seen.

And that should have been the end of it.

But I could smell it. The truth. The salt of the ocean clinging to your skin, the undeniable whisper of something not human. You don’t belong among them, do you? You walk in their world, smile for their cameras, let them call you Artemisia Jones as if that name could ever define you. But you and I both know that’s a lie. You’re something far rarer than that—a secret tucked away beneath layers of illusions. And yet, despite all that power, all that mystery, you stood in front of me and called me kind.

Do you know how dangerous that was?

Because now, I can’t stop thinking about you. I can’t stop watching you. I tell myself it’s curiosity—just a game, just a little indulgence—but then I see you on screen, see someone else touching you, whispering sweet words in your ear, and something inside me snaps. You were never meant for them. Never meant to play pretend with someone else’s hands on you.

I should have waited longer. I should have let this burn a little more. But patience was never my strong suit, and you—you were so close. So warm. Your pulse hammering beneath my lips, the taste of you sinking into my senses, your breath catching in that moment before my fangs pierced your skin… was it fear? Or was it something else?

I wonder if you can still feel it. The ache. The heat. The way I pressed you against me, whispering that I wouldn’t stop. And I won’t. Not now. Not ever.

They can have Artemisia. They can praise her, desire her, pretend they know her. But Celine—sweet, trembling, breathtaking Celine—she belongs to me.

So be good, little sea sprite. Stay where I can see you. Keep pretending to be part of their world if it makes you feel safe. But don’t forget who you really belong to.

Because next time?

I won’t stop at just a taste.

Yours, always,

Kou Mukami☆

Celine’s breath hitched, her fingers tightening around the page. The words sent a shiver down her spine—both thrilling and terrifying in equal measure.

He had been watching her. Following her. And yet, there was no mistaking the raw emotion behind his words. This wasn’t some shallow crush. This wasn’t just infatuation. This was obsession, tangled in devotion, laced with something dark and unshakable.

A deep heat pooled in her chest, her heart hammering as she read the letter again. The pink roses in her arms suddenly felt heavier, their petals soft yet suffocating.

He had left before she could respond, but somehow, she knew—he was still watching.

And, despite herself… she wasn’t sure she wanted him to stop.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Shu Sakamaki ♪

A Love Letter from Shu Sakamaki – A Silent Devotion, A Restless Longing

Shu never cared for effort. Whether it was school, people, or the world around him—it was all just noise, something to endure until it inevitably faded into irrelevance. But then there was her.

Celine. Artemisia Jones. A nymph among humans.

He had first seen her in passing—just another student in the halls of school, just another face in a sea of meaningless people. He should have forgotten her the moment she walked away. And yet, he hadn’t.

She was different. Unlike the others who either feared him or pestered him for attention, she was simply… there. Never pushing, never prying, but never looking away either.

"It must be tiring, letting everyone take pieces of you."

The words had settled in his mind, unshakable. As if she understood.

It had irritated him.

More than he cared to admit, he had started watching her. Not because he cared—he told himself that much—but because he needed to know what made her different. Why she lingered in his thoughts when no one else ever did.

He found himself drawn to the way she carried herself—soft-spoken yet unyielding, reserved yet undeniably present. The way she sat beneath the shade of a tree during lunch, her fingers absently twirling strands of her hair as she gazed at the sky. The way she moved through the world, gentle and graceful, but never truly belonging to it.

Then, of course, there was Apollo.

That ridiculous golden-furred rabbit she always carried when no one was watching, whispering softly to it as though it could understand.

She was odd. And for some reason, he couldn’t look away.

It had gotten worse—his distraction, his irritation. He caught himself waiting for her, lingering in places he never had a reason to be, memorizing her habits without realizing it. He should have ignored her. He tried.

But she made it impossible.

Which led to this.

A letter he never meant to write. A gift he never meant to buy. He had spent too much time debating whether it was worth it before finally shoving both under her pillow, leaving no trace of his presence behind.

And then, he left.

... ♪

The day had been long.

Celine sighed as she entered her bedroom, stretching her arms above her head. School had been exhausting as always—draining, suffocating. The meaningless chatter, the empty social obligations… None of it had ever felt real to her.

All she wanted was to collapse into bed, to rest.

But the moment she laid down, she felt it—something firm beneath her pillow.

Frowning, she sat up, reaching beneath it until her fingers brushed against something smooth. Slowly, she pulled it out—a black velvet box. Confused, she turned it over in her hands before her eyes landed on the second object: a folded, slightly crumpled letter.

Her heartbeat quickened as she carefully unfolded the paper.

The Letter ..

Celine,

I should have ignored you. I tried. But you don’t make it easy.

You linger. In ways I don’t have the patience to explain. In the quiet, in the noise, in the spaces between my thoughts. You take up too much room in my mind, and I hate it.

You—who walk so easily between two worlds. A nymph among humans. A woman playing a role that isn’t really hers. You pretend so well it almost fools me, but I know better. I see through it. I see you.

And yet, you make it so damn difficult to stay detached.

You were supposed to be just another passing moment. A name I would forget. But you weren’t. And now, I don’t know what to do with you.

You irritate me. You make me restless. And worse, you make me care.

I don’t know what you want from me. I don’t know if you want anything at all. But if you’re going to keep invading my thoughts, then you should at least know this—

I won’t ignore you anymore.

Shu..

Celine's breath hitched.

Slowly, her eyes drifted back to the black velvet box in her hands. With careful fingers, she flipped it open—inside was a delicate silver necklace, a single deep-blue sapphire at its center, gleaming softly under the dim bedroom light.

Her fingers traced its surface, a warmth spreading in her chest, both unfamiliar and overwhelming.

This… Shu Sakamaki did this?

It was almost unbelievable.

Shu, who avoided effort, who never seemed to care about anything, had gone out of his way to leave this.

Her lips parted, then curled into a small, breathless smile.

"You're such a liar, Shu," she murmured to the quiet room, pressing the letter close to her heart.

He had been watching her all along.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

End...

Written by : @eternaldarknesswitch

.

.

[casual-socks]

jon headcanons. jeadcanons?

-if he drops something and his back hurts too much he’ll just leave it there. the archival staff finds random pens everywhere all the time

-knows practical skills like sewing and knitting because his grandma thought that kind of thing was important to know. he can mend his own clothes

-can do the splits but cannot get up from the splits

-throughout the series hes owned at least 3 canes and lost all of them

-in mag 90 jon was wearing a cat hoodie georgie owned in high school and kept for some reason

-owns a night light he keeps in his office, purchased in season 4 when he started living there. was embarrassed until he noticed most of the rooms in the archives have night lights he didnt buy

-after mike crew he gets vertigo much more easily

-chronic headache haver

-people always, without fail, get him socks for christmas or his birthday. he loves it because he loses socks really easily

-^^ almost always wearing mis-matched socks

-he has his ears pierced, but in season 4 they closed up from the supernatural healing

-martin bought him cute office stationary for his birthday in season 1, he found it in season 4 and started keeping it on a shelf where he could see it

-the only reason he didnt take the admiral when him and georgie split up is because his flat didnt allow pets

-a lot of the things he had left of tim and sasha were destroyed in the flesh attack

-jon hides under his desk sometimes even though everyone knows he does that and he knows everyone knows he does that

-in season 4 jon bought new glasses even though he didnt really need them anymore

-always forgets he doesnt have to power through being sick and can in fact take medication

[ofoceansandtombsanew]

23:53 ー INOUE ORIHIME. but maybe i'm a fool to feel the way i do but, i will play the fool forever just to be with you forever.

"honey, aren't you coming to bed?" orihime's soft and drowsy voice cuts through the sound of pen scratching against paper. the sound is a welcome interruption, as is the sight of her clothed in a pale blue robe as she yawns.

"i will soon," you promise vaguely. with how your eyes burn when you blink, however, you know you should put your pen down. in spite of that knowledge, your hand decides it is better to finish taking notes now while you're up than later. "i just want to finish this chapter first."

it's the wrong answer, you know from orihime's sigh.

her slippers slide across the wooden floor as she makes her way to where you sit at the dinner table. "you can finish it in the morning, can't you?" you don't fight it when two arms wrap around your shoulder, pulling you into her chest behind you.

"it'll be morning in 7 minutes," you offer with faux enthusiasm, looking up at where she stands behind you.

brown eyes look down at you accompanied by knitted eyebrows, unamused. she says your name in just as unamused a fashion to boot.

when you first met orihime, you thought her incapable of ever getting angry. you've since learned that isn't the case. that face is a warning of what's to come if you continue to fight against her concern.

"we really went from fighting hollows and arrancars to university and work," the two of you share a chuckle at your tired attempt at changing the subject. your one year of high school in japan had be rife with danger; fighting the supernatural and traveling between the realm of the living and that of souls. that certainly hadn't been on the itinerary when you signed up for being an exchange student. "talk about a downgrade. no wonder the shows always stop when the action does."

"i like this downgrade," your girlfriend giggles into the back of your head, arms holding you a bit tighter. in her arms, you find yourself agreeing with ease.

you sigh wistfully. "yeah, me too," the corner of your lips turn upwards.

when you had dinner at her lonesome apartment when you were 16, there was always a time when the laughs had to end. even the battles and the days at school you shared would eventually come to end when it was time to return to your home country.

deadlines.

deadlines, deadlines, deadlines.

now the deadlines are gone and you can stay in this apartment for as long as you like.

there are no return dates, not anymore.

you spent one year as an exchange student in a seemingly boring city in japan. now you are back in that city, a bit older, a bit wiser and certainly more in love with inoue orihime. perhaps she is certainly more in love with you too, if you are arrogant enough to allow yourself think it. it's in how silky burnt orange locks envelops you both like a curtain in this moment, hidden away from the world. how chocolate brown eyes look at you with unbridled affection.

no more deadlines.

"you should come to bed," orihime insists once again, smile tender.

"yes," you murmur, setting down your pen for the night. "i think i should."

[tyquu]

i absolutely love your skybridger art!!! do you have any headcanons/how do you think the rest of the ghost crew would react to them?

WOAAGH!! Thank you!! That is a very big compliment coming from you!!

And man,, I do for sure have headcanons! Almost too many at this point cause the thing about skybridger not having canonically met yet is there are now an infinite number of universes where they meet in different ways. Depending on the universe (and who's alive), it could go a number of different ways!

But my current fave is Ezra does not get yeeted into wild space (or only goes missing for short amount of time) and is able to re-join the rebellion somewhere around the Luke is performing miracles era.

Hera would be over the moon that she has someone she can geek out to about space ships with over dinner (as well as super excited to see her son in a happy relationship). Zeb, Kallus and Sabine would get along pretty well with Luke too whenever they swing by. Chopper... Chopper gives them both an equal amount of shit, (deliberately but affectionately). He's doing the equivalent of a father intimidating his daughters date, but he's tormenting Ezra too for the fun of it.

Tbh when I think about this one, the reactions that really get me would be Ahsoka and Leia's. Both of them are having a kind of "what are the odds?" reaction but whilst Leia is thinking about how fun it is that her freaky supernatural childhood pen pal and newly discovered eldritch being brother have ended up together, Ahsoka is absolutely reeling from the fact she had to find out about Luke's entire existence from her part time nephew, who proudly introduced Luke Skywalker as his cute new boyfriend barley 0.3 seconds into her return from post Vader fight vacation.